


please don’t be sorry.

by elleigator



Category: Holby City
Genre: Trauma, Violence, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-16 18:13:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleigator/pseuds/elleigator
Summary: When Isaac turns up in a Keller stairwell, who is there to protect Dom? You guessed it. Vape Mum Ange saves the day!





	please don’t be sorry.

It has been three years since he has heard that voice. The way the syllables beat off his tongue like a drum, the way you can hear the smirk in his voice. His voice cuts through the peacefulness of the hospital stairwell next to Keller, shocking Dom.

"You still work here." Isaac’s snide smile was wide, taunting, almost. Dominic knew it was him before he even turned around, the accent so ingrained in his mind that sandpaper could not scour it away.

"Oh my god! What the hell are you doing here, get out, get away from me!" Dom whipped his head around, stumbling backwards towards the stair railings. 

"Shut up!" Somehow, although he has no authority anymore, the words silence Dominic. Perhaps the bluntness has shocked him into submission, or maybe Isaac still retains some sort of control. 

"It's no crime, me being here. It's perfectly legal." Isaac’s words are no more than a buzz in Dom’s ears, not forming sentences, not forming meaning. The words are bait, and Dominic is no more than a fish in Isaac’s game. 

"Do you remember what happened the last time we were stood on these stairs, Dominic?" Isaac’s words echo around the stairwell, finally resounding in Dom’s mind.

"Do you remember how you got me months, and months, and months locked away in prison?" It’s not surprise that keeps Dominic quiet this time, it’s fear. The fear of getting it wrong, the fear of displeasing Isaac, the fear of getting beaten.

"Do you have any idea why I'm here now? Never mind, I'll tell you. Revenge, Dominic." Isaac’s voice was quiet and deadly, and Dom already knew what would happen next.

In less than a second, Isaac’s fist connected with Dom’s jaw and sent him reeling backwards, crashing into the painted stairwell railings. Isaac lunges forwards, catching Dom by the collar of his shirt and shoving him against the wall.

"Get off him!" A shrill voice breaks the sound of metal clanging against bone, the door swinging on its hinges as Ange runs to the pair. She’s smaller than both of them, half the weight of Isaac, but she tugs on his shirt nonetheless, desperately trying to pull him off her son. Isaac seems so surprised by Ange’s attempt, he lets go of Dominic and turns on her. The sudden realisation that she is not strong enough to overcome him flashes over her face, and he reaches out a hand to grab her roughly by the collar of her shirt. As swiftly as he raises his hand, his fist connects with Ange’s cheek and the noise echoes around the stairwell. It sends her flying to the floor, skidding and her head hitting the ground with an audible smack. Isaac turns on her, kicking her in the back, the ribs, her stomach, her face, and she screams every time his boot connects with her body until she is completely soundless. Isaac, paying no attention to the man on the floor, grabs Ange by her collar, picking her unconscious body up with one hand and shoving her against the wall, hands closing over her neck. Her eyes had flickered shut after the punch, her body limp, and the force from Isaac’s hands on her throat isn’t helping. 

"Stop, stop, let her go! Get away from her!" Dom grabs the radiator on the wall for support and stumbles over to Isaac, who is now supporting Ange’s entire unconscious body with his hands. Dom, fired up from the anger of seeing his mother pushed against a wall by a man, grabs Isaac by the shoulder. Isaac turns around in surprise, his face meeting a well placed punch from Dom. Isaac reels backwards into the railings, Ange’s limp body stumbling into Dom’s open arms.

“Mum! Mum, are you okay? Can you hear me? Please, someone, help!” Dominic bends down slightly, in order to scoop Ange’s body into his arms like she is a baby, helplessly searching for someone else because his mind is too occupied to be in doctor mode. Suddenly, Ange’s eyelids flicker and her glassy eyes stare up at him.

“Did you just call me mum?” She asks, her voice soft and quiet and croaky and a little bit broken.

Before he can make up an excuse, her eyes fall shut again. Soon after, Mr Hanssen runs in, quickly followed by Fletch. They have quite a scene to behold: Ange, unconscious in Dominic’s arms, who is sobbing into her hair, and Isaac, knocked out on the floor. 

Fletch rushes over to Dom, who is still cupping Ange in his arms. She’s lighter than he expected, and bonier too. She’d definitely lost some weight recently. 

“Ange? Ange? Can you hear me?” Fletch asks frantically, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on the side of her neck. She remained unresponsive but Fletch was satisfied that her pulse was steady. 

“Trolley!” Dom has stopped crying, now, and his eyes just looked bloodshot and shocked. This was his mother, he was holding. He wondered if, 32 years ago, she had cradled him the same way? A trolley came and went, Dom not letting go of Ange’s hand until he absolutely had to.

He was in a spaced-out mood. He had sat in cubicles for the last few hours, doctors coming and going, nurses popping their heads in. His head was fuzzy, not dizzy, but numb. That’s the word- he felt numb. All that circled around in his head was the weight of his mother’s body in his arms, the woman who gave him life, believed in him enough to give him a job, and gave him unconditional hugs, all before she knew he was her son. She had been a role model ever since she arrived, and somehow, she’d never left. She was always just there. She was in her office, typing reports up, or hovering around the ward, making people smile. When he needed her, she had been there, every single time. And it just occurred to him now- who was there for her? She wasn’t married, or in a relationship. She seemed close to Fletch, but not close enough for deep talk. Who did she talk to? 

The nurses had told him he would have to stay overnight, a concussion, they said. Fletch had been down to tell him that Ange was awake, and speaking, but shaken up. 

“She’s staying overnight, just so we can keep an eye on her,” he had said. Nobody would notice if Dom slipped away now, would they?

He clambered off the bed slowly, wincing with each movement. It took him much longer than it normally would to reach the doors, then the lift, stumbling a few times but getting steadily stronger on his feet. The lift seemed to last for hours, the doors creaking open and closed, people leaving and entering as much as thoughts came and left his mind. When he finally got to AAU, he had almost lost the will to be there. As soon as the doors opened and he stumbled onto the ward, he was met by an anxious Sacha.

“Dom, I heard what happened-”Sacha starts, motioning Dom in for a hug, but he winces and steps away.

“No, please, not now. Where’s my mum?” Dom asks, tired and beaten and almost done. Sacha gives him a confused, almost inquisitive look.

“Ange, where’s Ange? Godard?” Dominic reiterates. He knows he sounds moody and stroppy and Sacha will likely give him the what-for later, but now’s not the time. He just needs his mum.

“In the side room. She had a bit of a panic attack when she woke up, so we moved her in there. Thought it was for the best.” Sacha says gently, nodding towards the side room.

“Is she alright now?” Dom’s voice is soft again, just broken.

“She’s settled. She won’t sleep, though, keeps pacing. Says she won’t stay the night, but she can hardly drive in this state.” Sacha gives Dom a sympathetic smile, which is returned with a nod. As he makes his way over to Ange’s room, he can’t help but pause for a moment, just preparing himself. 

He knocks at the door gently, pushing it open with a creak. Ange is stood at the window overlooking the hospital car park, not turning round to see the intruder. She’s wearing a pair of presumably borrowed leggings and her soft yellow jumper, the one that makes Dom think of sunflowers. 

“Mum?” There’s something so vulnerable about that one syllable. Such a soft word, hopeless yet hopeful at the same time, heartbreaking. 

“Dominic?” Ange’s head swivels as soon as she hears his voice. Slowly, wordlessly, the two move together, standing barely a foot apart before Dom makes the move. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into himself and her head nestles in the crook of his neck. She had not seen him for 32 years and she was planning on making up the lost hugs in the space of a few minutes. They clutched each other, Dom’s head buried deep into the softness of Ange’s hair, his hands grabbing her, pulling her close. He wanted to protect her, in an odd way- how dare Isaac touch his mother? How dare he lay a finger on her? She was so small, and tiny in his arms that he never wanted to let go. He made her feel safe, the way he held her so tightly. Ange was not a short woman and Dom was not tall, but somehow he towered over her, his strong arms holding her as both their bodies shook with tears. 

“They want to keep you in overnight.” Dam murmurs into her hair.

“I don’t want to stay. I couldn’t sleep, not until I knew you were okay.” Ange’s accent is so calming, so soft. 

“I’ll drive you home, if you want.” Dom offers, pulling away from Ange slightly, just enough to see her face. She nodded thankfully, resting her head on his shoulder and allowing him to drape his arms over her back. 

“Stay the night?” It was a statement rather than a question, because she already knew the answer. Neither of them wanted to be alone after this. 

By the time they pulled into Ange’s driveway, the sky was pitch black. Dom got out quickly, opening the door and helping his mother out. She leaned on him for support while walking, wincing at every step. They made their way to the front door slowly, Ange almost stumbling a few times. 

“If you want something to eat, the fridge is full. I did the shop yesterday. I’m so tired, I think I’m just going to go straight to bed. Take the second bedroom from the right upstairs, there’s a few drawers of men’s clothes. My brother sometimes stays.” Ange’s words are quiet, and Dom can’t tell if it’s because she’s exhausted or about to cry, or both. To be honest, he can hardly blame her.

———

A quiet knock on the door revels around the small bedroom. The walls are a deep red, seeming to repel the noise, forcing it back around in an echo.

“Come in!” Ange says softly, sitting up in the dark from her lying position on the bed. The light from the hallway blinds her temporarily, and she can just about make out Dom’s silhouette in the doorway. He’s shaking, and she can tell he’s trying to hold back tears. 

“Can I sleep in here tonight? Please?” Dom’s voice is fractured, barely audible but heartbreakingly raw. Ange nods, moving backwards to the side of the bed facing the window, allowing him to slip in. He sits on the edge of the bed first, taking a deep breath, and then suddenly everything is too much. He can’t breathe, and his body is racked with sobs. He lowers his head into his hands, not wanting Ange to see him like this.

“Hey, hey, come here.” Ange is kneeling behind Dom, slightly to one side, one hand on each of his shoulders and pulling him backwards into a hug.

“I’m sorry.” Dom whispers, taking her hands around his front and resting his lips on them gently. 

“Don’t be sorry. Come to bed.” She pulls him backwards and onto his side, unhooking the duvet and then pulling it over him. He blinks his eyes tightly, and she reaches towards his face with her hands. He flinches when he notices, but she gives him a reassuring look. Cupping his face in her smaller fingers, she uses her thumbs to wipe away the tears that have just run down his face. He almost starts crying again, because he feels like he fits with her. He’s still upset, angry even, but right now he’s tired and scared and so is she. He lets out a little whimper and she moves towards him instinctively, reaching behind him to stroke his hair, and then suddenly he moves in. His head is on her chest and she is murmuring comforting things in his ear, arms wrapped around him, pressing him close to her. For the first time since the attack, Dom feels safe.


End file.
